Eyes Wide Open
by Melina Malfoy
Summary: Draco Malfoy begins training to be a Death Eater, but when Hermione Granger is captured and held at Malfoy Manor, Draco's world turns upside down. Will he choose his family's destiny for him or risk both of their lives by turning his back on it all?
1. Chapter 1: Always the Same

Chapter 1: Always the Same

_28 Dec._

Draco Malfoy was tired of it. Tired of listening to them fight downstairs; it was the same argument nearly every time.

"Stop babying that boy!" snapped Lucius. "Then stop bullying him!" shouted Narcissa.

"The boy is _soft_. If he is to be prepared for the destiny that awaits him, he needs to be strong, unbreakable. And you are coddling him right into failure!"

"The _boy_, you say- that's right, Lucius- he is still a _boy_! Barely sixteen! I will not allow my son to be forced into a life that he's not ready for. You push him too hard, you always have. And if you keep pushing, keep demanding too much of him, he's going to break!"

"He'll break, but not because of me. It's because _you've_ made him weak! You undermine my authority at every turn. I tell him no, you find a way to say yes. I demand perfection, and you tell him he doesn't have to try that hard. I discipline him, and you clean him up".

"Yes, let's _talk _about your 'discipline'. ("Oh, here we go again!" growled Lucius) You know how I feel about the way you treat him. Discipline does not involve making him practice spells eight hours a day with no break. It does not mean berating him, or beating him. It does not involve slapping him anytime you don't like what he has to say. It does _not_ involve drawing blood from your own son!"

"I will discipline him the way I see fit until he proves he no longer needs it," Lucius spat. "He is a Malfoy, and he will live up to Malfoy standards. He will be raised high in the service of the Dark Lord, admired and envied by those who did not have the power to achieve what he will achieve. But he must be strong enough to wield that power, and I will make sure he is prepared for it. By _any _means I feel are necessary", he said coldly.

"Lucius, please! Listen to reason! If you-

Draco tuned them out, blasting the volume on the new Weird Sisters' album. _They fight about me like I'm not even here, _he thought. _Do they honestly think I can't hear them? I'm so sick of coming home to this shite. Merry fucking Christmas. _

He fired a well-aimed kick at his mahogany desk, cursing when he hurt his toe. He flopped onto the silk duvet on his bed, lying on his back with one arm bent over his eyes. He was getting a massive headache. Try as he might, he couldn't stop some of the images that invaded his mind- painful memories he wished he could forget.

_He was eight years old. He and Blaise Zabini were playing at his home as their mothers sipped tea and gossiped. They were both well aware of the "no ball-playing in the house" rule. But there was nothing to do with it outside except throw it back and forth. Boring. It was much more fun to hide behind the furniture and try to hit each other with it. _

_The two boys stood in the parlor; it was filled with fascinating possibilities for their battle. Their eight-year old lack of judgment and impulse- control overruled their intention to behave, and soon they were firing the ball at each other as hard as they could. The result of the game was inevitable. _

_Blaise made a run for it and dived behind the piano; Draco pitched the ball with all his might. His aim was_ _woefully inaccurate. It connected squarely with the antique ceramic vase on the side table and shattered it with a loud crash. Blaise jumped out from behind the piano with a squeal and ran to Draco's side. The two boys stood there, wide-eyed; they stared at the broken remains on the floor, silently wishing that they would blink and the vase would be back on the table in perfect condition. _

_They stood motionless, listening intently for the sound of grownup footsteps coming their way. When they heard nothing, they quickly began gathering up the evidence and looked for a nearby place to hide it. They were nearly halfway through when the parlor door opened. _

"_Did I hear a cr-?" came a man's voice. Draco's stomach dropped into his feet and he froze. Why couldn't it have been his mother, a house elf, anyone else in the whole wide world? "Boys," Lucius spoke sternly, "what happened to that vase?" _

_Blaise stammered; all he could get out were a few "Uh's" and "Um's". Draco made a split-second decision. "Um, Father, we were just walking through here to go outside and I, um, tripped on the rug, and I accidently knocked over the vase. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry Father!" Blaise looked at his friend's face. He'd never seen Draco like this, white as a sheet and trembling. Draco looked absolutely scared to death. _

"_I see," said his father in an unreadable tone of voice. He began walking around the room, hands behind his back, looking down and around the furniture. He stopped and reached down underneath a chair. When he stood up, he was holding a small ball in his hand. "You…tripped, Draco?" he said coolly, but his eyes shone with barely repressed anger. Blaise felt the tension in the room thicken, and he stared at Draco-he looked like he was either going to cry or to vomit, or maybe both. _

"_Blaise," Lucius said in a measured tone, "go and join your mother." Blaise backed nervously out of the parlor and took one last look at Draco. His eyes were closed, tears working their way down his face, and he was shaking. Blaise fled the parlor, not fully comprehending what he saw but knowing, nevertheless, that something was very wrong. He hurried to the sitting room at the other side of the manor where his mother and Mrs. Malfoy were talking. They turned as he entered the room. _

"_What is it, Blaise?" asked his mother. _

_Narcissa interjected, "I thought you and Draco were playing outside. Is everything all right?" _

"_W-we broke a v-vase," he stammered. "We played ball in the house." He hung his head. _

"_Blaise Antonio Zabini! I can't believe this- you apologize to Mrs. Malfoy this instant! Narcissa, I'm so sorry!" _

"_That's all right, Cecilia," Narcissa waved her hand dismissively. "Boys will be boys, after all. I'm sure you're both very sorry, isn't that right Blaise?" _

"_Y-yes ma'am, really, __**really**__ sorry!" _

"_Where is Draco, Blaise?" asked Narcissa. _

_Blaise looked at the floor, his stomach in a knot. "He's with his father, in the parlor." _

_Narcissa's face paled, an expression that did not go unnoticed by Cecilia. Cecilia stood up from the table. "I'm afraid we'll have cut our visit short, Narcissa. Blaise needs to go to his room where he will be grounded for a week!" _

"_Of course, of course," replied Narcissa distractedly. She saw them out, closed the door and then hurried to the parlor, her heart pounding in her chest. _

_As she drew near, the sharp sound of slapping and the sobbing of a young boy became clearer. She broke into a run and threw open the parlor doors. Her son was lying flat on his back while Lucius knelt on top of him, gripping his hair and holding his head firmly against the floor. He was slapping the boy's face repeatedly, each blow punctuated by furious words. _

"_Don't You EVER Lie To Me, Boy!" he shouted, striking his son's right cheek before switching hands and battering the other. Draco was bawling, unable to shield his face from his father's assault. _

"_Lucius, STOP!" she screamed, trying to pull him off. _

_He pushed her away. "Don't interfere, Narcissa! He looked me straight in the eye and __**lied**__ to me! I'm ensuring that he will never do it again. Isn't that RIGHT?" he spat, sending another crushing blow to Draco's scalded cheek. _

_Draco's breaths were ragged from sobbing and his little voice hiccupped "Please-Daddy-I'm-sorry!" Lucius grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, pulling him to a sitting position and shaking him hard. _

"_Do you understand me now, Draco? Will you ever be foolish enough to lie to me again?" _

"_N-n-no," he sputtered. _

_Lucius continued: "I want to see every piece of that vase picked up, down to the smallest one. When I come to inspect, if there is even one miniscule piece left on the floor I will beat you within an inch of your life. Do I make myself clear?" _

_Draco nodded his head frantically, tears streaming down his bruised face. At that, Lucius shoved him away and stood up. He looked down at his cowering son._

"_I'll return in 15 minutes; you had better be finished." He grabbed a nearly-hysterical Narcissa by the arm as she rushed to Draco's side. "You're not going to help him, Narcissa; I'll be damned if you baby him through this!" He pulled her out of the parlor as she struggled and pleaded with him. _

_As they rounded the door, Narcissa threw a heartbroken look at her son. "I'm sorry, baby!" she cried, and disappeared from view. _

_Draco crawled, shaking, over to the broken pieces of the vase. His hands were trembling so badly he could hardly pick them up; tears were blinding him and he struggled to stop crying. His face throbbed, and the sting on his cheeks was burning hot. But he knew he couldn't waste time; he felt sick just thinking about what his father would do to him if he wasn't finished. _

_He picked up the larger pieces and set them on top of the side table. Then he crawled on his hands and knees, pinching the tinier pieces with his fingers and adding them to the pile. He had no idea if it had been five minutes or fifteen; he worked frantically, praying he would be done in time. He had half a minute to spare when his father returned. He held his breath as Lucius inspected every inch of the floor and exhaled only when Lucius nodded in approval. _

"_Now, go to the pile of pieces and pick up a handful." Looking quizzically at his father, Draco did as he was told. _

"_Bring it here." _

_Draco held out his hand to his father. Lucius gently folded Draco's fingers over his palm so that no piece would fall out. Then he wrapped his hand around his son's. _

_And squeezed with all his might. _

_Draco screamed as the sharp edges of the glass sliced through the tender flesh of his hand. As his father's grasp became tighter, blood began to stream from his hand and drip down to the floor. The pain was unbelievable, but his father kept on squeezing as Draco cried out, his knees buckling. His father finally released his grip; Draco painfully opened his bleeding hand and cried harder when he saw the shards of glass now embedded in his skin. He looked up with tortured eyes at his father. _

"_NO, Daddy, Please NO MORE!" he cried as his legs completely gave way and he sank to the floor. _

_Lucius released him and looked down at him with scorn. "That was your punishment for breaking my vase with your goddamned ball," he spat. "Now pick up all those pieces again and dispose of them!" he said sharply and strode out the door, leaving Draco to bleed and weep on the floor. _

_Draco looked down at his hand; the shards of glass stuck out at odd angles and some of the smaller ones were buried almost completely. To move his hand even the slightest caused him excruciating pain. He wept through gritted teeth as he gingerly pulled out the larger pieces and placed them back in the pile on the table. When he had extracted all he could he sat on the floor, crying uncontrollably. How was he going to get the rest of the glass out? His hand was slick with still-oozing blood; his clothes and the floor were spattered with red. _

_He stood up unsteadily and forced himself to scoop a portion of the glass pile into his hands, the pieces stabbing at his raw, shredded skin. He carefully walked down the long hallway outside the parlor and deposited the glass into the trash chute. He noticed on his way back that he'd left a trail of blood drops on the floor. He managed to move every piece of the vase into the trash before collapsing in the hallway, his cries weak and tired by then. _

_He watched his father enter the parlor and then walk in his direction. He was too exhausted to defend himself, to cry out if his dad hit him again; he simply sat there, bleeding on his pants. Lucius reached down and pulled him to his feet by the arm. He whimpered at the sharp pain when his hand swung back as he stood up. _

"_Mimsy!" hollered Lucius, and a mild-mannered house elf appeared. Her eyes widened when she looked at Draco, but she said nothing. "Clean up the boy's hand," Lucius ordered, "but don't heal it. He needs to live with his punishment a while longer." He let go of Draco's arm and strode away._

_Mimsy's eyes were filled with tears, large droplets splashing onto her rag dress. "Oh, poor Young Master," she said sadly, "Mimsy knows that the Young Master should not be hurting like this." She gave him a potion to dull the pain and, using tweezers, gently plucked out dozens of tiny glass shards that were buried in his skin. Draco didn't cry out or try to pull away, even though it still hurt. Instead, he just sat there staring almost catatonically, silent tears rolling down his cheeks._

_The wounds in his hand continued to crack open and bleed for the next few days. It was painfully difficult to wrap his hand around his fork at mealtimes. Breakfast and dinner were the worst because his father would be home. They ate in silence, save for his whimpers of pain and his mother's stifled sobs. _

_At lunch, though, his mother would feed him like an infant and order Mimsy to bring her dittany to heal his hands as much as she could without Lucius noticing. She spent every day from the time Lucius left until he returned from work attending to Draco, holding him, reading to him, performing spells to make him smile. He loved her-loved the smell of her jasmine perfume when she held him, loved the way she would stroke his hair, loved that he always felt safe and warm in her arms. _

"_You're my best Mummy," he said as he gazed at her with adoring, silver-grey eyes._

So it always was with his parents. As his memory faded he realized he had curled up on the bed in a fetal position. Angrily he pushed himself off the bed-he wasn't that little boy anymore. Why then in seven hells he wondered, after all his father had done, did he still try to please him?

Draco was pulled from his reverie by the sound of something breakable hitting the wall downstairs. "Who's throwing things this time?" he muttered to no one in particular. He sighed heavily and pressed his forehead to the cold glass of his windowpane."Fuck this-I'm out of here." He shoved the window open and donned his cloak. Grabbing his new Firebolt he climbed onto the windowsill, kicked off hard, and escaped into the night.


	2. Chapter 2: Plans for the Night

Chapter 2: Plans for the Night

When he flew, he felt free, free of anything holding him down. Draco raced over a copse of trees which melted together in a blur of dark green. The night was freezing but he inhaled deeply, the cold air burning his lungs and clearing his head. He shot straight up toward the stars, dove in spirals, made graceful arcs and loops, leading his broom in an elegant dance across the night sky.

He flew so closely over a nearby lake that the tips of his shoes splashed across its glassy surface. Then he was content to just soar around the countryside; the bright moon cast a silvery glow onto the grassy hills, and the peacefulness of it made him smile. An actual, genuine smile, the kind that rarely animated his tightly-controlled disposition.

After a while, though, he began to feel the loneliness that always enveloped him when his guard was down. Too much quiet amounted to too many unwelcome thoughts. Who did he have to call his own, really? Friends? He scoffed. No; his Slytherin posse was simply a group of associates he could exploit, his girlfriends were only useful for his ego and his sex drive, and his family? Well, they weren't exactly a picnic-on-the-beach trio.

His mother loved him, of course, and he loved her back with everything he had. But as he grew, she was becoming more and more… exasperating, he hated to admit. She constantly fixed his hair, lectured him on the importance of a good night's sleep, made sure he finished his soup. He mused over the fact that only a single letter separated the word "mother" and "smother."

He had no desire to go back home until it was absolutely necessary, so he sped over to The Cauldron. The Cauldron was an upscale club where an eclectic mix of university-aged wizards and witches met to dance to the live music, kick back with friends at the bar, or find secluded spots to fool around.

Draco was a year too young to be admitted, but the manager and the bouncers knew better than to refuse Lucius Malfoy's son. Not that Lucius would have ever allowed Draco to go there in the first place, but Draco figured that what his father didn't know wouldn't hurt _him._

Draco ignored the bouncers and sauntered into the club, effortlessly switching on his characteristic arrogance. The club had already kicked into high gear; the band was rocking loudly and the drinks were flowing. The dance floor was crowded with partiers, their bodies glistening with sweat as they raved under the pulsating black lights. Draco made his way through them and headed over to the bar.

The bartender, Cadmus, greeted him with an enthusiastic smile.

"Good evening, Master Malfoy. I trust things are well with you?"

"As always," Draco replied smoothly.

"Will it be your usual tonight?" Draco nodded; Cadmus poured him a double shot of Ogden's Finest and slid a small brass key across the bar. Draco pocketed the key and picked up his drink. He gave a courteous nod of his head, laid down ten Galleons (eight of which were a generous tip for Cadmus) and turned toward the lounge.

He heard a familiar voice call "Oi! Malfoy!" and looked toward the back corner of the lounge. His "associates" had already arrived; their connection to Draco conveniently afforded them the same underage admittance. Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were relaxing on the plush green-and-silver chairs, empty glasses strewn about their table. This was the official Slytherin grad table, and any non-Slytherin (current or otherwise) who made the mistake of sitting there ended up with a nasty case of itching blisters on their backsides.

"How's the rest of your holiday going?" Blaise asked Draco. "Perfect," he lied, knowing Blaise knew exactly how his holiday was going- Zabini had been through enough of them at Draco's home. He masked his anger at Blaise's jibe and quickly changed the direction of the conversation to a more pleasant topic.

"Got some new Quidditch gear for Christmas: dragon-hide leather gloves from Romania and- he paused for effect- the new Firebolt 370."

Goyle gasped. "That's not even on the market yet!"

"It is for my father," Draco replied coolly. "And I'm heading to France for a day or two. There's a certain Beauxbaton who wants to have some 'quality time' together."

"In your dreams, Malfoy," Blaise replied with a snort.

Draco simply reached inside his suit jacket and placed a small parchment note on the table. Blaise leaned over skeptically and opened it. Inside was a picture of breathtaking blonde (most certainly part-Veela) who was blowing kisses. She was clad in an exquisite ensemble of black-and-emerald lingerie, the colors chosen specifically because she knew they were his favourite.

At the bottom of the note were a few elegantly-penned sentences in French. Unlike Draco, Blaise couldn't speak French, but he was pretty sure he got the gist of her message anyway. Draco sat back in his chair nonchalantly, a cocky grin spreading across his face. Blaise shook his head and smiled with grudging admiration. "I don't know how you do it, mate," he chuckled.

"I don't have to do anything, _mate. _It's just a natural ability. I'm sorry you missed that particular strand of DNA," Draco replied, simultaneously joking and putting Blaise back in his place. Draco would always be the Alpha male in their pack. Goyle, Crabbe and Nott missed the exchange entirely; they were still gaping at the French girl's picture.

There were always plenty of single girls milling about The Cauldron. Theo noticed a group of first-year university girls giggling and staring at them. "Look sharp, lads. We've got prospects!" The five Slytherins turned around and gave the girls a quick once-over. "Quite the lovely assortment," leered Blaise. "The evening's looking up."

Draco was already on his feet, striding over to Cadmus. "Bring those girls a refill of whatever they're drinking, complements of Slytherin House," he told the old man. Cadmus began filling his artfully-sculptured glasses with liquids of strikingly vibrant hues, and walked the refreshments over to the girls. They giggled some more and looked over at the boys, smiling excitedly and mouthing thank-you's.

Draco offered his most charming smile and beckoned them over to the table. At the sight of their eagerness to oblige, Draco turned to his cohorts and remarked, "They seem so enthusiastic, even Crabbe might get laid tonight." The boys erupted into laughter. All except Crabbe.

These girls were not from Hogwarts; they were first-years at The Mystic University about forty miles away. That made them ideal dates, as the boys could hopefully get some action for the evening and then never have to see them again. Draco stood up and began introductions. He zeroed in on the beautiful raven-haired girl, kissed her hand and gave her the smile he'd perfected for such occasions.

"Draco Malfoy," he stated his name with seductive articulation, "And who might you be?"

"Sara Greenleaf," she responded, blushing from the feel of his lips on the back of her hand.

"Please sit down, Sara Greenleaf," he smiled while pulling out his chair. She responded exactly the way he knew she would.

"But then where will you sit?" she asked, doe-eyed.

"Well," he drawled, fixing his magnetic grey eyes on hers, "You could always sit on my lap; I guarantee you'll have the best seat in the house."

She blushed again and, with a nervous giggle, sat down on his lap. He wrapped an arm around her waist and picked up his drink, smirking inwardly at the strategy that never failed him. The group drank and danced for about an hour; then Draco put his lips to Sara's ear and whispered, "Let's go for a walk outside."

She agreed, and they stepped into the frigid night air. Sara shivered half- innocently; her breath made warm puffs of mist in the air as she complained how very cold she was. That was Draco's cue.

He took off his cloak and chivalrously wrapped it around her. He gently backed her up against the side of the building and, pressing his body close to hers, whispered, "I can keep you very warm, if you like." He placed his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up to his; slowly he let his lips touch hers. She gave a slight gasp when their lips met but quickly abandoned herself to his kiss.

He teased her lips with his tongue, smiling when he heard her breathing quicken. He kissed her more intensely, letting his tongue explore her mouth as she responded with her own. Pressing himself against her harder, he trailed warm kisses down her neck. "Just allow me to turn up the heat, darling," he purred and felt her arms wrap tightly around him.

Keeping to his usual routine, he led her to the back door of the club. He held her hand and guided her up the stairs to a quiet hallway lined with several doors. He stopped at the last one, pulled the brass key from his pocket, and unlocked the door. Inside was a stylish mini-suite with chic furnishings. Draco was about to invite her to sit with him on the sofa, but she paused at the bedroom door. She put her hand on the doorframe and gave him a sweet, tempting smile.

He raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. It was almost too easy- he liked having to work a little to get them to give in. She was apparently ready, though. He moved toward her and, for a moment, he wondered if she just might be playing him as much as he was playing her. A second later, he stopped caring about his theory as she began unbuttoning his shirt.

She leaned into him and kissed the base of his neck; her lips felt almost uncomfortably hot against his cool skin. He quivered at the kiss and felt the lower region of his body respond in anticipation. He pulled her close and felt for the zipper of her dress, drawing it down to the small of her back. He glided it over her shoulders and let it fall at her feet. She was beautifully clad in a pale pink brassiere and thong panties. Draco couldn't help but run his hands over her nearly-naked skin, and he sighed as he cupped her breasts and his thumbs glided over her alert nipples. He slowly kissed and bit gently on the space between her neck and shoulder, earning a satisfied moan from Sara. She moaned louder when his right hand strayed between her thighs and his middle finger skimmed the dampness of her panties. She embraced him tighter and he backed her into the room, kissing her fiercely. He drew her to the bed, never breaking the kiss.

Sitting down, he pulled her onto his lap while she dragged his shirt down over his shoulders and threw it on the floor. He lay back and pulled her on top of him, moaning with pleasure as she ran her hand over the front of his trousers and unbuttoned them. She quickly removed his pants and shorts, rendering him completely naked. Draco wasn't used to such a…_dominan_twoman _, _and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not. He felt more comfortable in control of the situation. To even the playing field, he grabbed her under her arms and pulled her to his chest. He slid his hands around her to reach the clasp of her bra, freeing her beautifully rounded breasts. Taking one in his mouth, he suckled and playfully bit her nipple, causing her to whimper with desire. He slipped his arm around her waist and, in one swift movement, flipped her over onto her back. Her eyes widened in surprise and he chuckled. In another singular move, he hooked his fingers in the sides of her panties and pulled them off, throwing them to the ground. Now _he _was on top of _her_, just the way he liked it_._ He spread her thighs with his knees and heard her gasp. He used his fingers to play with her, causing her back to arch and her breathing to quicken. He slipped one finger inside her, then two, and her hips bucked in time to his movements. When he had gotten her properly wet, he took away his hand and plunged into her. She cried out and he bit his lip, feeling her muscles tighten around him. He drove into her hard, because _that_ was how to dominate an aggressive woman. She didn't seem to have a problem with it. At last, he shuddered and collapsed on top of her, sweat-sheened and trembling. A quick flick of his wand cleaned everything up, and Draco pulled Sara to his chest, squeezing her gently as she snuggled up to him. As he rested, he stared at the ceiling. _At least she'll keep me warm tonight. _He'd lost count of how many girls had unknowingly offered the same comfort. His thoughts were interrupted by a jolt of electricity to his crotch, as Sara began stroking him with the perfect amount of pressure. Then he stopped thinking altogether.


	3. Chapter 3: Family Matters

_Hope you enjoyed Chapter 2! In this chapter, we see a little more of Draco's family dynamics. He also participates in his first training as a Death Eater. How does he do, and what does he think of his father? The answers might surprise you. Please R/R- I'm making puppy-dog eyes and begging. :)_

Chapter 3: Family Matters

_29 Dec._

He knew he had to be home by seven. As the sun rose he redressed and quietly slipped out of the room while Sara was still sleeping, conjuring a red rose to lie on his now-vacant pillow. He hustled around the side of the building and found his broom. He lifted the anti-theft charm, kicked off, and sped home, fighting sleep as fatigue began settling in. He'd slept very little. _But, Merlin's beard, she was worth it_. He crept back in through his window, quickly tossed his clothes in the hamper and hopped in the shower. His body practically begged him to crawl into bed, but there was no sleeping in at Malfoy Manor. His father had no tolerance for "laziness" and set a 7:30am deadline for showing up at the breakfast table.

He got dressed and ran his fingers through his hair, feeling rushed. _You should have left earlier, _he chided himself_. _Draco swore silently as he looked at his watch: 7:35. He raced down the stairs and into the dining hall. His father was calmly cutting a piece from his Belgian waffle.

"You're late," he said curtly, not looking up.

Draco winced- "I'm sorry, father"- and walked briskly to the chair beside his mother. Thankfully, his father didn't launch into a lecture on punctuality; Draco's head hurt enough as it was. Narcissa rose from her chair and gave Draco a kiss on the cheek.

"Good morning, darling." She smoothed the hair on his forehead and studied his face critically. "You look tired. Didn't you sleep well last night?" She knew he'd been out, of course; his bed was empty when she'd come to check on him, but she wouldn't dream of mentioning it in front of Lucius. Draco cleared his throat.

"Uh, no, I was…up a lot". Technically the truth.

"Draco," Narcissa began as they took their seats, "I'm going over to the Parkinson's for tea later today. Would you care to join me? I'm sure that Pansy would love to see you." Draco barely held back from rolling his eyes as he looked away from his mother. _Oh I know she'd LOVE to see me, _his thought dripping with sarcasm, _and I'd LOVE to Apparate the hell away from her, preferably to the other end of the earth. _

His parents and the Parkinson's had been trying to put Draco and Pansy together for what felt like his entire life; he secretly feared that they might one day _Imperius_ him into marrying her. He shuddered at the very thought of being wed to that whiny, aggravating pain-in-his-arse. But before he'd been able to respond, "No thanks, Mum- I'd rather dive into a swimming pool full of razor blades and lemon juice (or something like that), Lucius interrupted.

"Draco will be attending a meeting with me and some of our associates this morning; he stands to learn a great deal today. After that, Severus will spend the afternoon with Draco to work on Potions."

"What?" Draco was astonished_. Snape is coming here to teach me Potions? I excel at Potions, what the hell is this about? _"But-but I'm on holiday!" he complained.

Lucius gave him a hard look. "So you're comfortable with your ranking in Potions class? You'd rather remain in second place, behind that _Mudblood_ girl of all people?" He spat the word out as if getting rid of a foul taste in his mouth. Lucius fixed a disapproving glare on his son, a look Draco saw practically every day. "You're lazy, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself."

Draco closed his eyes, cringing inwardly from the wound made by his father's biting comments. He knew there was no point in arguing; the tirade would end sooner if he didn't protest.

"Upstairs now, and change your clothes," Lucius ordered. "Put on your black suit with the silver serpent cufflinks. And for Merlin's sake, fix your hair!"

Draco was walking out of the dining room before it occurred to him that he hadn't even eaten. He sighed and called for Mimsy, the main house elf since they lost Dobby when he was twelve. "Bring me a Belgian waffle with strawberries, a vegetable omelet, and an enormous cup of coffee; I'll be in my room." Mimsy hurried to fill the order.

"Are we bringing my sweet little nephew to the meeting today? Going to be one of us soon, aren't we Draco?" Bellatrix put her hands on either side of his face. Draco's heart contracted tightly at the mention of exactly what it was he would soon become. "You'll make us so proud, darling- you will do _great things_," she whispered, leaning her forehead against his, her hands still holding his face. With that, she patted his cheek (a little too hard), smiled at him, and walked over to the chaise in the foyer. He swallowed hard, not wanting to look at her forearm but grimacing as his eyes betrayed him. The Dark Mark seemed more prominent with every passing day.

"Bella! Do you mind?" snapped her sister. Bellatrix was standing on the chaise and casting a spell on the chandelier above, making the crystals vibrate so strongly that some had begun to crack.

"You're no fun at all Cissy," Bellatrix scowled, leaping off the chaise and pouting. She turned her attention to the elegant fountain across the hall and caused the water to swirl violently, like a liquid tornado. She cackled wildly, her eyes lighting up as water splashed across the oil paintings on the wall. Narcissa closed her eyes, barely controlling her temper.

"Just clean it up, Bella."

Draco did his best to avoid his aunt. He had no cheerful memories of her at all. As a child, he was always scared of her; he once watched her capture a fox in the backyard, torture the wailing creature, Petrify it and drown it in the pond. Just for fun. He had been only seven, but the gleeful dance she did after killing the fox made his blood run cold.

And then she caught him watching. He ran for his life but she only laughed and fired a Leg-Locker Jinx at him. He lay there on the ground, terrified, as she towered over him. "Don't go running to tell Mummy," she teased, "or you can be my next fox, sweetie." She gave him a menacing glare followed by a wicked smile, and then walked away chuckling.

Draco still shuddered at the memory.

Since she'd been freed from Azkaban, she was a hundred times worse; now she was crazy as well as cruel. She was like a ticking time bomb, and no one knew when (or how often) she would blow up. Sometimes, when dark clouds passed over the moon, she would see visions of her captors in prison. She would scream at the moon, cowering in terror, crying "NO! Please, don't! Leave my soul alone!" It made the hairs stand up on Draco's neck.

Lucius appeared in the foyer, took out his wand and instantly stopped the fountain's wild water show and dried the walls and floor. "Shall we?" he said crisply, and led Draco and Bellatrix out the door. He grabbed Draco's arm and they shot up into the air, leaving an ominous trail of black smoke behind them.

Draco felt the air whipping him and could see nothing but the dark wind swirling around him like a violent tangle of black scarves. He felt his stomach drop as they ascended and struggled to breathe. The trip took less than a minute and they arrived at the home of Orin McClellan, another high-ranking Death Eater. Draco closed his eyes and steadied himself against a hedge, his head still spinning.

"Ah, Lucius! You've arrived. And you've brought the heir to your throne, I see." McClellan fixed his gaze on Draco, who bowed courteously as he had been taught.

Lucius put a hand on Draco's shoulder. "I have, Orin. After all, my son is nearly of age and I feel that it's time for him to…shall we say, gain some experience?" McClellan smiled knowingly. Draco's pulse quickened at his father's cryptic statement. He suddenly felt very uneasy, and had to force himself through the doorway of the McClellan Manor.

He looked around the grand foyer. Ornate sconces flanked the gilt-edged mirror hanging above a large, marble fireplace on the right side; to the left was a magnificent display cabinet filled with precious antiques and artifacts. Some of them had been passed down through the generations of the McClellan family tree, but most had been stolen from the homes of the Death Eater's victims. Past the foyer was an expansive dining room where three more Death Eaters sat at a long, intricately carved table.

Orin led Lucius, Bellatrix, and Draco to their seats. A house elf appeared with a vintage bottle of Merlot, pouring a glass for each of them. Draco tried not to focus on the fact that the dark red liquid looked nauseatingly like something else.

"Some introductions are in order, I believe," said Orin, taking his seat at the head of the table. "Draco, there are two of our associates here whom you may not know. This is Kieran Yaxley, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry," he said, pointing to the man sitting directly across from Draco. Orin then gestured to a thin, dark haired older man to Yaxley's left. "This is Antonin Dolohov, one of the original Death Eaters for the Dark Lord."

Both Yaxley and Dolohov reached across the table to shake Draco's hand. Orin then turned to the third man at the table. "I believe you know Theodore Nott, Sr. His son is in your year at school, isn't he?"

Draco shook his hand. "Yes, Theo Jr. is a close friend of mine. Hello, Mr. Nott- it's good to see you, sir."

Nott smiled but looked at the boy intently, as if measuring Draco's abilities against those of his own son. "Hello, Draco. Perhaps we'll see Theo sitting here with you in the near future."

"I hope so," Draco replied. Out of his peripheral vision he caught his father and McClellan exchange a look that said, "Not anytime soon," punctuated by a haughty roll-of-the-eyes from Lucius. He'd have to ask his father later on; Lucius wouldn't miss a chance to put someone down.

"Gentlemen- and Lady, of course," Orin nodded to Bellatrix. "Today we begin young Draco's training into the ranks of The Dark Lord's army," announced Orin.

Draco did a double-take. _Come again? _The table of Death Eaters smiled broadly at him, and everyone raised their glasses. Draco was still processing the news and didn't smile back.

Lucius stood up, glass in hand. He smiled down at Draco and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "To my son Draco, the first of a new generation to join our Noble Order," he announced.

Draco stopped with his glass halfway in the air and looked strangely at his father. _He looks…almost…proud of me._ He felt a hesitant kind of warmth budding deep in his heart, but kept it subdued. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking.

Bellatrix completed the toast with a passionate declaration: "And to the Dark Lord, to whose service we bind our lives."

"To the Dark Lord!" they all replied, including Draco.

After the wine had been drunk and the conversation ended, he followed the adults to an enormous hidden room. Tall shelves lined three of the walls, containing extensive collections of books on the Dark Arts, various potions in sinister-looking bottles and several terrariums. Draco spotted at least two poisonous snakes and a very large tarantula. _What kind of "training" is this? _He struggled to control his nerves, and wondered if he and his breakfast would soon be reacquainted. Orin's voice pulled him out of his head.

"Draco, today we will begin with simple dueling."

_Oh, thank Merlin! _Draco felt a thousand pounds lighter. _This__ I can handle. _

"Though I hear you have been quite adept at besting your classmates, you will find your opponents today a bit more challenging," Orin continued with a smile.

Draco heard quiet laughter and turned to see his aunt, Yaxley, Dolohov, and Nott standing in a line with their wands drawn. They let out another laugh when he inadvertently took a huge step back and hit the wall behind him. He looked over at his father for reassurance. Lucius gave him a small nod but it was clear that he was as nervous as his son. Draco swallowed hard. _Thanks for the vote of confidence, Father._

Bellatrix sauntered over, took her nephew by the arm and pulled him to the center of the room. "All right then, Draco, let's see what you've got!" Draco fumbled for his wand; after a few deep breaths he managed to pull it from his pocket. _Great, I already look like an idiot._ His aunt stood several paces away, smirking at him.

They readied themselves, posed in dueling stances, and raised their wands. Draco had hardly spoken the first syllable of his spell when Bellatrix silently cast a Levicorpus jinx. Draco was suddenly suspended in midair, hanging by his ankle. He felt fantastically stupid, even more so when Bellatrix lifted the spell and he crashed to the ground. He heard them laughing again, all except his father.

"Up! Try again!" commanded Lucius.

Draco scrambled to his feet and faced off with Nott. He spoke faster this time, casting a Stunning spell. Nott simply blocked the spell and cast a _Protego _charm. Draco's spell rebounded and he was thrown back, landing on his rear end and smacking his head on one of the bookshelves. Pain reverberated in his skull but he could still think clearly enough to assess his performance: _I'm rubbish._ His duel with Dolohov went no better. Once again, Draco found himself on his arse faster than he could say _Stupefy_. His father grabbed his arm again and stood him up. His head was throbbing but he made himself stand at the ready.

Lucius shoved past Yaxley, who was next in the dueling line. He drew his wand and turned to face his son. Draco's breath caught in his throat, and he got a warning message from his breakfast. Lucius spoke sternly to his son. "Don't choose weak spells, Draco-think about attacking your enemy and shielding yourself. There is no mercy in dueling".

Draco gave him a shaky nod and took a deep breath. _Show him. Show him you can do this. _What kind of spells did his father want? Would he be proud or pissed if Draco put him in a Full Body-Bind? Or used _Incendio_ to set his robes on fire? The ambiguity made him nervous. He set his jaw in determination, and chose his spell carefully.

Draco heard his aunt count down from "3". At "1", he fired an _Incarcerous _spell to chain Lucius to the bookshelf. However, he was so focused on casting the right spell he completely forgot to protect himself. His father shouted a curse he'd never heard before.

"_Sectumsempra_!"

Draco hit the floor so fast it took a moment for him to register what had even happened. Then he felt the pain. White-hot and razor-sharp, it took his breath away. He watched in alarm as blood soaked through his shirt and began to pool around him. It felt like his chest had been ripped open. He was rapidly losing blood and consciousness and, for a terrifying moment, wondered if he was actually going to die.

But then his father was kneeling over him, drawing his wand across the gashes. "_Vulnera Senentur_," Lucius intoned repeatedly, closing Draco's wounds and drawing the pain from his body. He saw his Aunt Bella stooped next to his father, applying Essence of Dittany on each gash after Lucius repaired it. Even she had a look of distress on her face. Through the fog in his head he heard them talking.

"No, don't put Dittany on that one."

"But it'll leave a scar!"

"It will remind him of the purpose of dueling."

Lucius finished siphoning the blood from Draco's shirt and pulled his shaken, horrified son to his feet. Draco simply stared at his father in disbelief. "That is what I mean by no mercy," Lucius said softly. He led Draco over to the wall where the boy sank into the nearest chair, still shaking visibly. "Take a moment to compose yourself, and then rejoin us," he instructed. Draco threw up his breakfast.

When he finished heaving and could finally think straight,Draco marveled at the absolute indifference in his father's voice. The man confused the hell out of him. _He actually seemed proud of me at the table, and now he's nonchalant about the fact that he nearly killed me._ He stayed in the chair with his eyes closed and focused on slowing his breathing to near-normal. As soon as a tinge of color returned to his cheeks, Orin called him over to resume his training before he lost his nerve completely.

The Death Eaters put Draco through his paces. Though he was no match for his father or his aunt at all, by the end of the session he had effectively used a shield charm against Yaxley and managed to stun Dolohov. He was covered in cuts and bruises from slamming into the walls or other furniture when hit by their spells. His left leg hurt so badly that he could barely walk on it. He knew he had performed terribly and cringed as his father approached him.

_Here it comes_.

He hung his head and braced himself for the verbal blows. To his complete and utter astonishment, Lucius clapped him on the back and smiled. "Excellent work, son. Very few apprentices can recover from a serious curse and continue to train afterward; even fewer can cast a successful spell against us on their first day." The others agreed, smiling and congratulating him. Draco's mouth fell open. _Funny_-_I know I must be dreaming, but I don't remember going to bed. _

"Your son has remarkable strength and a quick mind. He shows great promise, Lucius," remarked Orin. Lucius nodded confidently, his hand still on Draco's back, as if he'd known this all along. Still in a daze, Draco played their words over and over in his mind and prayed that he truly _wasn't_ dreaming. He felt a thousand feet tall.

When they returned home, Draco rested as Mimsy practically bathed him in Dittany. He hardly felt any pain, though, as he listened to Lucius and Bellatrix recount his first day of training to his mother. His mind held onto every word they said. Remarks like "a fast learner" and "outstanding work" floated through the air like sweet music to him.

The praise, especially from his father, was intoxicating. He drank it up, capturing it in his heart. He thought he didn't care that much, thought he'd shut down the need for the man's approval long ago. But he discovered in that moment that the father-shaped hole in his heart still existed, and Lucius's emerging respect had begun to fill it.


	4. Chapter 4: Friends, Foes, & Festivities

_Hi, everyone! Thank you to all of you who have put my story on their Story Alert and Favorite lists- it makes me sooooo happy! This was one of my favorite chapters to write, because it showcases the different types of Christmases our characters would have. Enjoy, and PLEASE review- your words mean the world to me! Luv, Stef :)_

Chapter 4: Friends, Foes, and Festivities

_17 Dec. (2 weeks earlier)_

"…_We are so proud of your hard work and we love you with all our hearts. Counting the days until you are home for Christmas! Love, Mummy and Daddy."_

Hermione Granger held the letter to her chest and smiled. She was curled up by the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room, enjoying a rare moment to herself. It was early on a Friday evening, and the other Gryffindor students were out and about the castle grounds. She sighed contentedly, sipping her hot chocolate and imagining herself at home with her mother and father.

She read her parents' letter once more and began checking off the list of presents she'd purchased on her last trip to Hogsmeade. "Chocolate frogs for Dad, Madame Puddifoot's raspberry tea for Mum, that foolish thing from Zonko's for cousin Will…"

"And box seats for the Quidditch Semi-finals for your dearest Ronald!" interjected the ginger-haired Gryffindor. Hermione turned around and laughed as her friends sauntered into the room, their clothes still spotted with melted snowflakes. Harry and Ron plopped onto the couch beside her, and Ginny sat cross-legged on the floor next to the fire. "How was Quidditch practice?" asked Hermione.

"Bloody cold, if you ask me!" complained Ron.

"That's only because you're a sissy, Ronald," teased his sister.

"Am not!" he retorted, flinging a pillow at her. Harry intercepted the throw and tossed the pillow on the floor.

"Practice was great," he replied. "We're going to kill Ravenclaw on Thursday!" he grinned. Ginny stretched out on the floor- Harry paused a moment to quietly enjoy the view- and scooted closer to the fire to warm herself.

"See, see! Admit it- you're just as cold as I am!" cried Ron. He ducked just in time for the pillow to miss his head.

"What are you writing?" asked Harry. "The list of Christmas presents I got at Hogsmeade the last time we were there," replied Hermione. "I need to make sure I don't forget anything when we leave on Friday."

"As if that's possible," countered Ron. "We all know you'll repack your trunk at least five times before we leave." Hermione reddened and made a face at Ron, though she knew he was right. Harry and Ginny laughed out loud; they knew he was right too.

"Only five more days of class." Harry stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back on the couch with his hands behind his head. "One more day to put up with Snape, one more nap in Binns' class (Hermione shot him a stern look), and one more Quidditch victory for Gryffindor!" The four friends cheered, raising imaginary glasses in a toast.

As the three Quidditch players began discussing maneuvers and strategies, Hermione concentrated on her list again. Oh, to be home again! As much as she loved Hogwarts, nothing felt as good as her own bed in her own room, with her parents just down the hall from her. She finished the list and picked up her History of Magic homework, determined to get it (as well as 12 inches of report on Wolfsbane for Potions and a detailed description of her ideal animal for Animagus Transformation) finished this evening, six days before they were all due.

_22 Dec._

The Great Hall was bustling with joyful, frenzied activity. The students, thrilled to be done with the term, were on their way home to celebrate the holidays with their families. There were hugs, kisses, presents being exchanged, and lots of "Happy Christmas" wishes by students, teachers, and ghosts alike.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry, along with Ginny, Neville, and Luna headed down the stone platform together toward the Hogwarts Express. Harry would be spending Christmas with the Weasleys, Hermione was glad to be going home to her parents, and Luna's father was taking her to Ireland for the holiday. Luna noticed that Neville was quietly shuffling along, looking down at his feet and not participating in their animated conversation. She knew the reason why.

"I'm sorry that your parents are in the hospital; it must be difficult for you and your grandmother during the holidays", she said softly.

"Oh, yeah," he replied awkwardly. "W-We'll go to see them of course- we always do." After another awkward pause he looked at her, gratitude for her kindness shining in his deep brown eyes. "I, um, appreciate you thinking about me. Thanks, Luna."

Hermione was also glad to be leaving some of her own personal drama back at the school. She and Ron had gotten into a horrific fight that morning, as usual, over something stupid he said. She'd been feeling rushed and, in her haste, broke the container of raspberry tea for her mother resting on her bed. The container was easy enough to repair, but the loose-leaf tea was beyond saving; it was scattered amidst the dirt and dust of the girls' dormitory floor.

Ron had asked her something and she'd snapped at him, tears still in her eyes from the tea accident. He'd shaken his head and muttered that there were potions available for when she was "on the rag". The morning was turning out to be disastrous, and she was in a right state by the time everyone was ready to leave. She boarded the train first, squeezing herself past several other students to find an empty compartment. She spied one and, keeping her eyes on it, neglected to see the student standing a few feet in front of her. "Oof!" she said, as she ran into his back.

"Watch where you're go- ugh, Granger! You smeared your filthy mudblood on my coat. Now I'll have to take it off and burn it."

"Charming as usual, Malfoy. Move out of my way- I'm not in the mood for your rubbish," Hermione spat as she attempted to push her way past him. He blocked her path with his arm. "Sorry- these are the first-class compartments. No _filth_ allowed," he sneered. The other Slytherin boys around him snickered and called out a few nasty comments of their own.

Hermione's eyes filled with angry tears, and she turned away. She didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing her _cry, _for Merlin's sake. She was too late. "Aww, are you going to cry now, Mud-baby?" Draco jeered. The Slytherins cackled and rubbed their eyes, crying "Waah, waah". That was the last straw for Hermione. She burst into tears and pushed her way back through the students, shoving her way past her friends.

"Hermione, what happened?" said Harry. He and Ron looked in the direction she'd just come from. The conclusion was easy to work out, since they were staring at a gang of high-fiving Slytherins.

"Malfoy, what did you do to Hermione?" Harry shouted, barging his way forward with his wand drawn. Instantly, five Slytherin wands were pointed back at him. Malfoy stood in front of them, wand at the ready.

"I'd back off if I were you, Potter! Go back and wipe the crybaby's nose for her."

"You shut the hell up, Malfoy!" Ron's voice bellowed from behind Harry. He aimed a spell at Draco, shooting over Harry's shoulder, but it ricocheted off the ceiling and cracked the glass door to one of the compartments. Students close by jumped at the sound and began pushing away from the fight. Draco fired a stunning spell that hit Harry right in the chest, knocking him, Ron, and three other students down like dominos. More wands drawn from both sides, each shouting threats at the other. The first-years panicked and either hid in the compartments or fled from the train.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" Every student on the train froze in their tracks. Severus Snape was standing in the doorway, his eyes flashing and his face livid. "Put. Your. Wands. Away. NOW!" Everyone quickly pocketed their wands and suddenly looked very busy finding their seats. Harry, Ron, and the Slytherins glared at each other once more, and stormed away.

Harry and Ron found Ginny with her arm around Hermione, comforting her. "Why do they have to be so _mean_?" gasped Hermione, her breaths shaky from crying. She was forcefully wiping her eyes with her sleeves, determined to stop her tears. "I don't know," said Ginny, "I think they're just born foul, loathsome, evil little cockroaches. Nasty pureblood bullies. It's _their_ blood that should be called filthy!" she spat.

Harry sat down next to her. "Hermione, don't let Malfoy and his gang of idiots get to you like that; they're never going to change. I know it's hard- you know I've let them get to me too and a fat lot of good it ever did me. But my Uncle Vernon used to say: 'Never expect anything from a pig but a grunt.' Half a minute- did I just quote my _Uncle_?" Hermione felt a tiny smile creep onto her face. Harry chuckled softly and looked Hermione in the eyes. "But my point is: never expect anything better from Malfoy, or any of them. They could never be anything but the scum they are."

"At least you won't have to deal with them for 3 whole weeks," Ron encouraged her. "That's a Christmas present right there!"

Hermione managed a small but grateful smile. "Thanks, all of you. _You're_ the best presents I could ever have."

_25 Dec._

The Weasley home was littered with boxes, wrapping paper, and knitted sweaters. It was also packed with happy friends and family: eight Weasleys (minus Percy), Harry, Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin. Laughter filled the home and drifted out the window, mingled with the delicious aroma of Christmas dinner. It was a typical holiday sight at the Burrow. Ron was stuffing his face with the glazed ham. Molly was too busy refilling the gravy boats and everyone's glasses to participate in the conversation. Fred and George were carefully levitating a sizeable glop of mashed potatoes over Bill's head. Arthur tapped on his glass with his fork, garnering everyone's attention.

"Happy Christmas to you all, the family I've had and the family I've gained," he smiled proudly, looking first to his own brood and then gesturing to Harry, Remus, and Tonks.

"Happy Christmas!" they all said in unison.

There was a yelp from the end of the table and everyone looked over at Bill, sitting with a perturbed look on his face and mashed potatoes dripping from his head.

Hermione was snuggled up with Crookshanks next to the hearth in her family room at home. Her parents and extended family were relaxing after the evening Christmas service at their church. "The pastor gave a lovely sermon tonight, don't you think?" commented her mother, Jean. Everyone munched on freshly-baked cookies and sipped Jean's peppermint cocoa, as per family tradition. The Granger's traditions were notoriously sappy, but Hermione relished the cozy familiarity and continuity it brought to her holidays.

After cocoa, it was always time to open gifts. Hermione had been able to sneak away and purchase a lovely silk scarf for her mother. Presents were passed around the room; it quickly became filled with oooh's of appreciation and squeals of delight. The squeals usually came from Hermione's two cousins, who were eight and five. This year, their noises were loudest for Hermione's gifts. For Will, she had gotten a can of Exploding Beans which could be re-loaded for endless hours of pranks. Little Julia had received a delicate tea set adorned with painted flowers that would change colors depending on the angle they were viewed. Both gifts were enchanted, but also had believable Muggle explanations. Hermione smiled as she mentally calculated her points for "coolest cousin".

Her present was next. Hermione opened the small red box her father handed her. Inside, nestled in matching red satin, was a beautiful gold locket. There were delicate designs etched on the front and an inscription engraved on the back: "_Hermione, you are our greatest gift. Love, Mum and Dad_". Hermione opened the locket and found a tiny picture of herself as a newborn on one side and her parents on the other. "Mum, Dad," she began, tears sparkling in her warm brown eyes, "it's so beautiful! Thank you so much!"

Luna and her father sat cross-legged on the beach at Inis Meian in the Aran Islands, looking out at the deep blue water. "Your mother and I used to come here all the time; do you remember when we brought you here?" asked Xenophilius softly. "I remember, Dad," Luna smiled. "I was four, and we decorated half of the beach with shells and rocks and Mum made them change their colors and patterns. It was quite beautiful". "She was quite beautiful," Xenophilius smiled, "and so are you, my Luna".

They strolled down the beach, hand in hand, comforting each other in their own quiet way. Then Luna broke off their path and turned to the foamy surf at the edge of the sand. Taking off her shoes, she waded calf-deep into the cold water, bouncing up and down at the shock of the temperature. "Come on, da'!" she called to her father. He was already out of his shoes and socks and sauntering toward the water. He splashed his way to her side and gave her a gentle pinch on her cheek.

"May I have this dance, milady?" he said as he bowed dramatically.

"Of course you may, kind sir," she replied with a deep curtsy. They joined hands and waltzed in the gentle waves as the sun sank on the horizon.

The terminal ward at St. Mungo's hospital was decorated cheerfully, with enchanted ornaments changing places on the Christmas tree and real snow falling upon it. Frank and Alice Longbottom were in the back of the room near the tree. Frank was staring at the ornaments, his partially-focused gaze following their movements. Alice sat on the side of her bed, repeatedly saying, "Oh yes, it's a good day. Lovely, isn't it?"

Neville held his mother's hand and patiently responded "Yes, it's lovely, Mum" each time she said it.

His grandmother sat stiffly behind him, never letting on that her heart broke afresh every time they visited. Neville left his mother's side and walked over to his father's bed. He sat down beside the man who never recognized him.

"Happy Christmas, Dad," said Neville softly. "I got you a present." He pulled from his pocket a silver hourglass. The sand traveled down curved, sloping chutes on its way to the bottom, changing color from red to purple as it landed at the base. His father loved watching things that moved, like the ornaments on the hospital tree. Neville placed it on the bedside table and gently turned his father's head toward it. Frank stared raptly at it, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. Neville sighed; his father was happy.

Too soon- and too long- it was time to leave. As Neville and his grandmother stood to go, Alice rose from her bed. "Oh wait! Wait!" called his mother. "I have a present for you!" Neville paused and opened his hand, waiting for the bubblegum wrapper she would give him as she did each time he saw her. She tucked the wrapper in his hand and gave him a lopsided smile. He hugged her tightly. "Happy Christmas, Mum".

The dinner was exquisite. Exotic foods and drinks were served to the guests by an army of house elves. There was light chatter and bursts of well-cultured laughter, and the atmosphere itself exuded elegance and grandeur. The Malfoys were gracefully entertaining about seventy of their closest friends.

Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle-along with fellow Slytherins Millicent Bulstrode, Violet Downing, and Theo Nott- were lounging in a room just off the dining hall. Though their personalities were less than attractive, they were striking to look at; the girls wore chic jewel-colored dresses and the boys sported tuxedos and dress robes. They sat around the room, really having nothing to do except demand that the house elves bring more firewhiskey while their parents weren't looking.

None of them, save for Draco, even saw their parents for more than a few minutes once dinner had finished. But Lucius practically paraded Draco around, showing off his son to each guest and accepting congratulations for raising such a talented young man. "He's a Malfoy, isn't he?" boasted Lucius. Draco basked in the praise that came from his parents and the guests; he felt important, admired, even envied. The feeling was addictive. He rejoined his classmates, sauntering in as though he owned the world.

"Well, the crowned prince has finally graced us with his presence. Should we be bowing to you?" cracked Theo.

Draco smirked. "Shouldn't you have been doing that all along?" They all laughed- Blaise rolled his eyes.

Violet gave Draco an alluring smile and questioned him with her eyes. His angelic face broke into a wicked grin and he mouthed back to her "Two hours. My room." She understood and nodded, looking pleased with herself.

Pansy, always a little slow on the uptake, asked, "What are you doing, Vy?"

"Oh, nothing," she replied with a sugar-sweet smile.

Two hours later, the Imperturbable charm kept the noise contained in Draco's room. His hair was plastered to his forehead and Violet's skin was slick with sweat. The two untangled themselves from each other with a bit of effort and lay on their backs, out of breath.

"My my," Violet panted, "What would your dear Pansy say?"

Draco snorted. "Please, don't ruin the moment, you naughty wench." He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. "Contrary to Parkinson's belief, _you_ are the girl I enjoy wrinkling my sheets with."

_And I'm much more creative in bed, _she thought smugly. _Draco and I have done things that would blow prissy Pansy's mind._

He pulled her closer, his hands lazily caressing her curves. She snuggled into his warm, bare chest and wrapped herself around him. She didn't mind being his "mistress"; Pansy, Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson, and the Malfoys still held onto the hope that their children would marry and live happily ever after. After all, the Parkinson's were on _much _more equal footing in wealth and status than Violet's family.

But Draco certainly didn't give a rat's arse about that pug-nosed bint, and Violet's year-long "affair" with Draco had to mean she was special to him, didn't it? Still, she knew the game she had to play; as long as she kept her cool and never let on that she actually loved him, she could keep him from pushing her away. Commitment wasn't exactly his style. For now, she would be content with her fantasy.

It was a fantasy, sadly; Draco enjoyed her immensely, but he never felt she was anything more than a 'friend with benefits.' It frustrated him a bit; he'd tried mustering up real feelings toward her, but they just weren't there. He knew how to play his part in the game too, so he allowed her to feel special enough to keep her in his bed. As shallow as it was, he didn't want to lose what they had. He felt her squeeze him tightly and returned the gesture.

"Happy Christmas, Draco."

"You too, my lovely".


	5. Chapter 5: Two Different Lives

_So I'm hoping that a few more of you lovely readers will be kind enough to send me a review. I take each one to heart, I really do! Enjoy chapter 5; after this, it's all downhill for Hermione and Draco- at least, for a while! Thanks, everyone! ~MM_

Chapter 5: Two Different Lives

_31 Dec._

His tousled, white-blonde hair was barely visible under the covers.

"Young Master," Mimsy spoke tentatively, "you must wake up." A muffled "Mmmhmmhm" came from the bed, the head of hair disappearing completely. "Begging pardon, but Mimsy must wake Young Master up- his father is expecting him downstairs."

Draco groaned and pulled the covers off his face. "What time is it?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

"Five o'clock in the morning", she replied.

"Ugh- you've got to be joking," Draco sighed irritably.

"Mimsy is not joking the Young Master," the elf replied anxiously.

"I know, Mimsy, it's just a figure of- never mind. Tell him I'll be down as soon as I'm dressed."

Draco yawned widely and forced himself out of bed. What in Merlin's bollocks would his father want at this hour? He stumbled into the bathroom and winced as he lit up the room with his wand. Groping for the wall, his eyes still too sensitive to the light, he stripped off his silk pajama pants and turned on the shower. He let the hot water run down his body to wake up his muscles as he worked to shake the sleep from his head. It would be far too easy to just lean against the tile and fall back into blessed sleep. Just before he finished, he muttered "_Algesco_" and immediately the water turned ice-cold. The shock of it made him gasp, but now he was definitely wide awake.

Groomed and dressed, Draco met his father in the dining hall.

Lucius sat at the table, impeccably dressed and sipping a strong tea, "Good morning, Draco," he said pleasantly. "We have an early start to your training today- a blood traitor by the name of Caverty has been captured and is being held at McClellan Manor. You'll have a prisoner on which to practice your new skills."

Eager as he was to impress his father again, Draco was taken aback by the news. It was one thing to practice dueling, quite another to use what he'd learned on a real person. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard; "O-of course, Father. I'm ready."

McClellan, Yaxley, and Bellatrix were already waiting for them in the training room. Draco looked around, his gaze resting on the center of the room. A man was there, bound hand and foot to a chair. His face was already bruised, dried blood caked to the side of his head. He looked exhausted and terrified.

"Please," he croaked, "I'm no traitor! I've been telling you-" he was cut off by a sharp slap to his face.

"I told you to keep your lying mouth shut! Do I have to cut out your tongue to keep you quiet?" barked Bellatrix.

The man whimpered and kept silent. Draco felt his body go numb and his heart start to pound. _I can't do this, I can't do this! _

Lucius took him by the arm. Draco's legs felt rooted to the spot, but he forced himself to walk over to the man. "How fortunate that you should join us today, Caverty," mocked Lucius, "You've made yourself an excellent target for my son's training." Caverty's eyes grew wide, his gaze shifting from Lucius to Draco.

Their eyes met, and Draco felt what speck of resolve he had crumbling rapidly. Beads of perspiration blossomed on his forehead and he began to feel very, very ill. He struggled not to show it, but when Lucius ordered him to take out his wand he couldn't keep his hand from shaking violently. He was breathing heavily, on the verge of hyperventilating. He looked down at his feet, ashamed of his weakness.

Bellatrix moved behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. "I know, Draco, it feels… uncomfortable at first, but think of what you can accomplish here. This is not a man to feel sorry for; he's a traitorous pig who could have brought danger to our family- to you, _to your mother_. He deserves to be punished."

As she continued to speak, her voice grew softer and softer until it was just a whisper in his ear. He closed his eyes and felt his mind bend to her words. Her silky voice was hypnotic, and it began to kindle a fire of hatred within him that rose closer to the surface with every word she spoke. He could sense a wall being built around his heart, and all his fear subsided. All he could feel now was the burning desire to make this man _hurt._

Draco pointed his wand at the cowering man. "_Apnea!_" he shouted. Immediately, Caverty's airway constricted. He flailed wildly against the ropes in his chair, his face turning a ghastly shade of purple. Draco watched him coldly, and only lifted the spell when his father touched his wand arm. He was drunk with the power he'd just felt, the power of holding Caverty's very life in his hands.

"Excellent," crooned Lucius. "Shall we try another one?"

"Please! NO!" begged Caverty, his voice hoarse. Lucius whispered a curse in Draco's ear.

"_Doloviscum!_" commanded Draco as he pointed his wand at Caverty's chest. Intense pain, like a crushing heart attack, shot through his victim. Caverty's screams filled Draco's ears and shattered his concentration; immediately the spell lost its strength.

"Focus, focus," whispered Lucius. "Ignore the sounds you hear. Channel your anger, your strength, your power, and propel it straight through your wand. Make him pay for betraying our family."

Draco felt the wall around his heart grow strong and solid, and he sharpened his focus. He pointed his wand at Caverty's ribs and hissed, "_Affligossis_!" There was a cracking sound as several bones in Caverty's ribs snapped, and he howled in pain. This time, however, his screams had no effect on Draco. He pointed his wand at his victim's knee- Caverty's kneecap splintered and he bawled in agony. Lucius stepped back and let his son continue the torture, breaking Caverty's wrist, right arm, and collarbone. Then he halted Draco's attack.

"Enough, Draco. Back away now. You are not quite ready for this." With that, Lucius pointed his wand at Caverty. "_Avada Kedavra_!"

_2 Jan._

He hadn't been the same since the training. The rage, the coldness, the malice he felt that night would not subside. Adrenaline pounded through his body at an uncontrollable rate. "This is a normal reaction to the first use of your powers- it will pass," Lucius assured him. "In time, you will be able to control your feelings and access them only when you need them."

Draco nodded, but his muscles remained tense and his fists were clenched. It was a horrible feeling, but he was completely at its mercy- it was holding him hostage in his own body. He'd spent the last few days suffering through uncontrollable bursts of anger; the knuckles of his hands were bruised and bloodied from punching the walls repeatedly. Even his mother couldn't get near him to try to calm him down.

He couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep. His mind was tortured with frightening images of violence he knew he could now perform. He lay on his bed when he could force himself to do so, his breathing rapid and shallow and his heart slamming painfully in his chest. _Make it stop,_ he pleaded with himself, _please make it stop. It hurts so much. _

Understanding that he couldn't endure much more, Lucius restrained him when he lashed out again. He pinned Draco to the bed, his son cursing and fighting to break his hold. Bellatrix cast several calming spells, quieting him just long enough for his mother to administer a sedating potion. Narcissa gathered him to her. She felt her son's muscles finally relax and he went limp in her arms, falling at once into a deep, dreamless sleep.

_3 Jan. (morning)_

Hermione's eyes fluttered open as she woke up from a peaceful night's sleep. The Christmas holiday had been wonderful so far; she couldn't believe nearly two weeks had already gone by. She padded down the stairs in her fluffy pink robe and slippers and went into the kitchen. Her father was getting ready to leave for work; her mother was filling his thermos with coffee.

"Hey, sweetie," he said, pulling her into a quick hug. "Gotta go- I love you!" He grabbed his coffee, kissed his wife and headed out the door to the garage.

"Morning, honey," said her mother. "Hungry?"

"Tea, please, and oatmeal with strawberries," Hermione replied. "Do we have strawberries?"

"Yes, darling," smiled Jean. "Go get dressed while I fix it".

Hermione ambled up the stairs and into her room. Rummaging through her drawers, she found suitable clothing for the chilly weather. She looked out the window and beamed like a child; fresh snow had fallen overnight. She pulled on a burgundy sweater, jeans, and black, calf-high boots. She put on her new locket and ran a brush through her tangled hair. Frowning in the mirror, she pulled her hair back into a low ponytail and decided that was the best it was going to get today.

"Breakfast is ready," called her mother.

"Coming!" she answered and ran down to the kitchen table.

"Were you planning to go to Diagon Alley today?" asked her mother.

Hermione sighed, "Yes. I need more ink and another quill, and more potions ingredients as well. I don't want to wait until the last day before we go back; it'll be so crowded."

"Would you like me to come along?" asked Jean.

"Oh yes, Mum- could you?" Hermione replied excitedly.

Jean nodded. "I can rearrange a few things on my schedule; we can have a girls' outing and go to lunch!"

They bundled up and left the house around eleven-thirty, arriving at Diagon Alley shortly before noon. Breakfast having worn off, they enjoyed some delicious potato soup and hot butterbeer at the Leaky Cauldron. "Okay," said Hermione, placing her list on the table. "First, to Scribbulus Writing Instruments and then Slug and Jiggers Apothecary. Ooh, and maybe we can stop at Flourish and Blott's? I might want to pick up a book or two. And we must visit Fred and George at their shop and of course we should also pop into-"

"Slow down, darling! We can do all of those things," her mother laughed, "But how about one thing at a time?"

Hermione smiled bashfully. "Sorry- I'm just excited. Let's start at Scribbulus, okay?"

They purchased Hermione's writing supplies and then replaced her stale bottles of potion ingredients with fresh ones. Flourish and Blott's was nearby and Hermione pulled her mother toward the bookshop.

"You're going to get lost in there, aren't you?" her mother teased.

"Only for an hour or two," Hermione joked back.

"Tell you what," said her mother, "I'm in the mood for some nice hot tea. I'll go back down to the Leaky Cauldron and get us some and bring it back here. That way you'll have to come out quickly or it will get cold!"

"Okay, okay!" laughed Hermione. "Can you get me mint tea?"

"Sure thing- I'll be back in a few minutes," she called as she walked off.

If Hermione's mother had any idea what was about to happen, she would never have left her daughter's side.

_So, I know I left you on a cliffie-don't hate me too much! I'll pop up the next chapter very very soon, I promise! Also, the spells that Draco uses in his training are ones I made up by researching Latin words. "Algesco" means "to become cold, "Apnea" means "to stop breathing", "Doloviscum" means "pain" and "heart", and "Affligossis" means "break" and "bone". Hope to hear from you all! Thanks ~MM :D_


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